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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018063">Batman: Against the Clock</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotesFromSarah/pseuds/NotesFromSarah'>NotesFromSarah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Zorro Crossovers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Zorro (TV 1957)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1930s, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Detective Noir, Disney's Zorro, Friendship, Gen, Golden Age (Comics), Male-Female Friendship, Mystery, Pulp, Time Travel, swashbuckling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:27:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotesFromSarah/pseuds/NotesFromSarah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Time travel crossover AU: Disney’s Zorro/Golden Age Batman. It’s 1935 and Batman is on the trail of Clock King, who is trying to use a new time ray to steal all the gold in California – from 100 years ago! But, Clock King is foiled when instead of transporting gold from California’s past, he accidentally transports a certain masked bandit by the name El Zorro. Now, it’s a race against time to prevent Clock King from getting California’s gold and to get Don Diego back to his own time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barbara Gordon &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Zorro Crossovers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. TIME IS MONEY</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <em> The wind blows cold over Gotham and the night is dark as a dark man plots to bend time and space to further his own dark ends. </em>
</p><hr/><p class="western">Batman stood on the rooftop of a warehouse in Gotham’s industrial district. His cape billowed around him as the wind swirled through the silent streets. He was watching and waiting. Across the alley the warehouse he was watching was dark, apparently lifeless. He knew better.</p><p class="western">The minutes dragged into hours as Batman kept his vigil. In the distance the Gotham City courthouse clock began to chime. Batman counted each ring of the bell. <em>Twelve o’ clock</em>, he thought. The overcast sky threatened rain making the night seem that much more dark. Folding his cape around himself Batman didn’t budge. Tonight would be the night, he had no doubt about that.</p><p class="western">His vigilance was rewarded at long last. A light flickered to life inside the warehouse. From the way it danced he assumed it must be some type of lantern. <em>Interesting</em>, he thought, <em>I would have expected electric lights</em>. Waiting for the light to find a stationary place inside the warehouse, Batman descended from his look-out. Time to see what was going on.</p><p class="western">The door to the warehouse was open and unguarded. <em>So, Clock King doesn’t think anyone knows,</em> Batman thought, smirking. <em>Sadly, I’ll have to disillusion him in just a moment. </em>Creeping into the warehouse Batman concealed himself among the shadows as he took in the scene that occupied the main part of the warehouse floor.</p><p class="western">While boxes and pallets and other warehouse paraphernalia crowded the corners and walls of the building, the center of the floor was clear in the shape of a rough circle. A table full of strange looking tools and a single flickering lantern occupied one side of the circle, and a strange looking contraption stood on the other side, opposite the table. A long cord ran from it to the wall. The contraption was some sort of camera as near as Batman could guess. It stood on a tripod and had a box on top, about the size of a large camera used to make motion pictures. Except, instead of reels and wheels, this device had a variety of dials and knobs. In place of a lens this device had a series of gear-like discs descending in size forming a cone-shaped nozzle.</p><p class="western"><em>I really don’t like the look of that thing,</em> thought Batman. He wanted to get closer to have a better look but he was stopped by the man puttering around the table of tools.</p><hr/><p class="western">Clock King was ready. At last he had perfected his Time-Ray, and by the end of the night he would be the richest man in the world. Thunder rumbled at a distance as he pulled on a pair of thick, black rubber gloves and selected one of his specially designed tools from the table. Going to the Time-Ray he put the finishing touches on his calibration. He felt giddy. He was so close. No more would he have to cheat and steal like a petty criminal, his time was now!</p><p class="western">Satisfied with his adjustments he went over everything one more time. His plan was flawless. His Time-Ray was a magnificent machine, peak technology really. H. G. Wells would be green with envy had he known that he, Clock King, had finally invented a real time machine.</p><p class="western">Of course, there were some differences between the machine of the novel, and his very real Time-Ray. Namely, that he wasn’t about to waste time seeking out the future. He machine could only look back, and look back he would. His fingers floated over a dial on the side of the Time-Ray. Finding the one that indicated a year he began to turn it backward, the year showing in a small clear pane on the side of the Time-Ray.</p><p class="western">1930, no, not far enough.</p><p class="western">1900, no, further back.</p><p class="western">1870, still not far enough.</p><p class="western">1840, no, further still.</p><p class="western">1820, perfect.</p><p class="western">Spinning another knob he began to cycle through a list of all the major cities in the United States, the name of the city displaying itself in a small, glass covered window.</p><p class="western">
  <em> Click! </em>
</p><p class="western">Boston.</p><p class="western">
  <em> Click! </em>
</p><p class="western">Chicago.</p><p class="western">
  <em> Click! </em>
</p><p class="western">Detroit.</p><p class="western">
  <em> Click! </em>
</p><p class="western">Little Rock.</p><p class="western">
  <em> Click! </em>
</p><p class="western">Los Angeles!</p><p class="western">Walking around to the other side of the Time-Ray, Clock King rubbed his hands together, almost giggling with delight. In just a few minutes he would remove all the gold from Los Angeles in the year 1820 and transport it to here to the future. There would be millions upon millions of dollars in gold and it was all his for the taking. On this side of the Time-Ray a sort of typewriter keyboard was embedded. As soon as he entered the target and pulled the lever on the top it would be done. He would be rich and no one would be the wiser.</p><p class="western">He knew which gold vein he was going to steal first. One of the richest in all of California. It went by the name Montez Oro, named after the Mexican prospector who had found it. Licking his lips with anticipation, his fingers fumbling over the keys, he typed in the name letter by letter, listening as the internal workings clicked into place.</p><p class="western">
  <b>M</b>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>O</b>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>N</b>
</p><p class="western">Clock King shivered with anticipation, his fingers felt clumsy swathed in the large black gloves.</p><p class="western">
  <b>T</b>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>E</b>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>Z</b>
</p><p class="western">As each letter clicked into place he was that much closer to his goal. He could almost taste it. Actually, he wondered what gold tasted like. He would find out soon enough!</p><p class="western">
  <b>O</b>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>R</b>
</p><p class="western">A sound by the wall caused Clock King to pause. Looking behind him he tried to make out if someone had come upon him unawares. The lantern light flickered faintly showing him nothing. Turning back to the keys he typed the last two letters.</p><p class="western">
  <b>R</b>
</p><p class="western">
  <b>O</b>
</p><p class="western">With that he put his hand on the lever and pulled it back. The streetlights flickered as the power grid diverted a massive amount of energy to the warehouse. The Time-Ray began to vibrate. The gear-disks began to spin. Outside the warehouse thunder rumbled, louder this time. Clock King could hear the internal workings of his Time-Ray clicking and ticking as they sped up. Thunder rolled again and the sky streaked with lightning. Rain began tapping on the warehouse windows. The streetlights dimmed further as electricity surged to the Time-Ray causing a faint glow to gather at the point of the nozzle.</p><p class="western">The glow grew stronger, filling the warehouse with an unearthly bluish white light. Growing from a mere point of light at the tip of the Time-Ray, it began to form into a large round orb. The sphere of light took up the entire center of the warehouse, the light was growing brighter every second. Shielding his eyes Clock King stumbled backward to the warehouse wall. His heart was racing, it was happening at last!</p><p class="western">Suddenly, in the center of the sphere of light an otherworldly portal opened and for a brief moment moonlight from this other time poured onto the warehouse floor. Then, ringed in a pale blue light a magnificent black stallion came jumping through the opening mounted by a dark figure. Lightning split the sky again and all at once the lights of Gotham went dark.</p><hr/><p class="western">Somewhere a man wailed, <em>“Where’s my gold!” </em></p><p class="western">Zorro had only a split second to gather himself in the dimly lit chamber he now found himself inside before Tornado, unnerved by the bright lights and thunder, charged the box on legs that was emitting strange light and sound. Rearing up on his back legs the horse struck at it with his hooves. Zorro clung to Tornado trying to bring him under control.</p><p class="western">“Steady, boy, steady.” He pulled at the reins trying to get Tornado to calm down. Tornado, however, was having none of it. The stallion was frightened and had decided the light box was his enemy, one he was going to destroy. Charging the box he began to strike at it with his hooves, catching it with enough force to knock it to the ground with a crunch.</p><p class="western">The voice from a moment ago wailed again, <em>“No! My Time-Ray!”</em></p><p class="western">Zorro looked around, still fighting to control Tornado, and spotted a thin man in a brown suit rushing towards him. Tornado gave a bloodcurdling cry as the suited man dove under the horse’s hooves and scrambled to collect the box on legs. Zorro tried to keep his seat on the rearing stallion and simultaneously prevent him from stamping the other man to death. Clutching the bridle he took a handful of Tornado’s mane in his hand. “Steady, steady!”</p><p class="western">Just then, springing from the shadows, another man joined the fray. He, too, was wearing a mask and cape but Zorro had no time to think about it further. The caped man tried to intercept the suited man, but Tornado was enraged by the strangers and gave another shrill trumpet before charging them.</p><p class="western">The men scrambled in separate directions and the caped man caught Tornado’s fury in particular. The horse wheeled to face him as Zorro pulled back on the reins as hard as he could. “Tornado! Still!” he commanded.</p><p class="western">The other caped man somersaulted away from Tornado’s ire springing onto a stack of boxes against the wall. Tornado was ready to charge again, but Zorro could feel that he was under control once more. “Tornado, no!” he said sharply pulling the reins steering the horse away from the wall. Finally, Tornado complied, his anger spent for the moment. Zorro breathed a sigh of relief, but he wasn’t free yet.</p><p class="western">Jumping from the saddle Zorro drew his sword. Taking in the strange dark room he approached the other caped man. “Señor,” Zorro wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, he had no idea how he had come to be standing in this room or even the faintest idea of who the other men were. Speaking of which, he looked around for the man in the brown suit.</p><p class="western">The other man jumped from the boxes, landing lightly on his feet. <em>“Clock King is gone, he took his machine with him,”</em> said the man in a deep voice.</p><p class="western">Zorro held up his sword. “Who are you,” he demanded, his heart racing. He didn’t understand what the other man had said to him just now, yet another layer of mystery to this night. Realizing that if he didn’t understand the other man, the other man might not understand him he decided to ask the most basic question. “Señor, Do you speak Spanish?”</p><p class="western">The other man paused for a moment, then said in strongly accented Spanish, “My name is Batman.”</p><p class="western">“Who was that other man, and where did he go?” Zorro took a step closer, trying to see this man better in the flickering lantern light.</p><p class="western">“The other man is Clock King, he’s run to his home now.” Batman gestured to Zorro. “And you, what is your name?”</p><p class="western">Zorro glanced around one more time taking in the room, the boxes, the dim lantern and the Batman. The man was wearing a close fitting outfit and shrouded by a dark cloak. His face and neck covered by a mask and cowl. On top of his head two little ears protruded. <em>Bat ears</em>, Zorro supposed. Since Batman didn’t seem disposed to fight, Zorro sheathed his sword.</p><p class="western">“And, you are not friends with this King of Clocks?” Such a strange name for a man.</p><p class="western">“No, I have been trying to stop him for weeks now. He has some plan and I’ve been trying to discover what it is.” Batman moved a little closer to him. “Now, tell me who you are and where you come from.”</p><p class="western">Zorro hesitated again, still more than a little disoriented. Still, he didn’t fear attack from the man before him. Bowing slightly, he said, “My name is el Zorro and I come from the pueblo de Los Angeles.”</p><p class="western">“Los Angeles?” Batman murmured, “you’re a long way from home.”</p><p class="western">Zorro shook his head, confused. “What do you mean, Señor? Where exactly are we, if not in Los Angeles?”</p><p class="western">Batman gave him a little smile and inclined his head, bowing in return. “Señor Zorro, welcome to Gotham.”</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. FOR THE TIME BEING</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <em> The streets of Gotham are quiet and still. The storm, having passed, leaves only wet streets shimmering in the pale moonlight. Streetlights flicker to life again, casting pale rays onto a silent black car and a thundering black steed. </em>
</p><hr/><p class="western">Batman drove his automobile into the cave at Wayne Manor waiting for his companion to join him. There had been nothing else for it, Zorro didn’t have anywhere else to go. Parking the vehicle in it’s usual spot he exited the car and waited for Zorro to catch up. Seconds later the clattering of hooves filled the cave and Zorro appeared. Dismounting the horse in one fluid movement Zorro took hold of the bridle and led the animal deeper into the cavern.</p><p class="western">Zorro looked around the cave seeming to take in the entire chamber. Even in the dim lighting Batman knew he could make out the radio array on the far wall, and the shelves of assorted weapons and gadgets.</p><p class="western">“I approve of your choice of lair, Señor Batman.” Zorro gestured towards the entrance. “One cannot even see the opening from the outside.”</p><p class="western">“That’s the idea,” said Batman. He pulled off his gloves and began to loosen the fastenings on his cowl. “This place is unknown to anyone except me, and now, you."</p><p class="western">“I appreciate your trust.” Zorro patted the horse’s nose gently. “I hope you can elaborate further about what you briefly explained to me at the warehouse a moment ago.” The horse nickered softly and nuzzled Zorro’s hand.</p><p class="western">“Trust me, we’re going to have a long talk in just a few minutes time.” Fiddling with the fastenings he finally got it free.</p><p class="western">“Master Wayne,” said a new and somewhat disapproving voice, “you didn’t say you’d be bringing company.”</p><p class="western">“Alfred,” Batman said as he turned to face his friend, “I want you to meet Zorro.” Turning back to Zorro he removed his cowl and said, “This is my servant, Alfred, and I suppose there’s no point in secrets between us anymore. I have a feeling we will be working very closely for the foreseeable future. My name is Bruce Wayne.”</p><p class="western">Zorro looked at his horse as if asking him what he should do next. Then, giving the stallion’s nose a decisive pat he turned back to face Bruce. “I am not accustomed to showing people my face, but it seems that I find myself in exceptional circumstances and therefore must make an exception this one time.” Taking off his gauntlets he swiftly undid his mask. With a little bow he said, “Diego de la Vega, your servant, Señor.”</p><p class="western">The horse roughly bumped Diego’s arm with his muzzle, Diego laughed a little. “And of course, I must not forget to introduce my most trusted friend, Tornado.”</p><p class="western">Alfred stepped closer to Bruce. “What’s he saying, Master Bruce?”</p><p class="western">“I’ll fill you in later, I’m going to take our guest inside, can you take his horse to the stables?”</p><p class="western">Alfred nodded and Bruce turned his attention to Diego again. “Let’s go inside, I think we have a lot to talk about. Alfred will take care of Tornado.”</p><p class="western">Swiftly, Bruce changed his clothes. He wondered if this man was somehow connected to the legendary figure, Zorro. Was it possible this man had copied the dress and mannerisms of the legendary outlaw? What was going on in Los Angeles these days? Bruce supposed he would discover the truth soon enough. Right now he was just grateful that he had been disciplined about his Spanish studies and could actually hold a conversation with the man.</p><p class="western">Nodding for Diego to follow him the two of them made their way up the stairs to the door that led to Wayne Manor. Bruce glanced over his shoulder as the went, noticing that Diego was looking everywhere.</p><p class="western">Opening the secret door that led into the grandfather clock, Bruce stepped through it into the small parlor of Wayne Manor. Following on his heels, Diego joined him a second later.</p><p class="western">“A door hidden in a clock, how inventive,” Diego remarked as he looked around the parlor, seeming to take in the furnishings and decorations. His attention seemed to be particularly captured by the crystal chandelier that hung from the high ceiling emitting an orange-y electric light.</p><p class="western">“My great-grandfather built this place, secret passages and all. That clock he built with his own hands.” Bruce pointed to the solid wooden time piece. “He built the passages to protect the household if we ever came under attack.”</p><p class="western">Diego ran his hand over the side of the clock, inspecting it more closely. “And he continues to offer you protection all these years later.”</p><p class="western">Bruce hadn’t ever thought of it that way before, it was an interesting observation. “I suppose so. Come, let’s go to my study.”</p><p class="western">In the study Bruce gestured to a chair. “Please, make yourself at home. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, I’ll do my best to clear things up for you.”</p><p class="western">Diego removed his sword, cloak, hat and bandanna, laying them on the desk before sitting in one of the leather arm chairs. “I don’t even know where to begin. You said at the warehouse that this King of Clocks brought me here by means of an invention, but I’m not even sure where ‘here’ is? I’ve never heard of Gotham before.”</p><p class="western">Bruce rose and went to a bookcase, scanning through the titles. “You’re a long way from home, Diego. And I’m not sure how to break this to you, but I believe Clock King used a machine to bring you from your home in Los Angeles to Gotham.”</p><p class="western">“How could that be possible?” Diego’s voice was neither skeptical nor accepting. Merely curious.</p><p class="western">“I’m not sure,” said Bruce, finding the volume he was looking for, “Clock King has a strange gift for tampering with the dimensions of time and space.” Bringing the book to Diego he opened it to a full page layout of the United States.</p><p class="western">Diego accepted the book, shaking his head incredulously. “It sounds so fantastic that I don’t even know what to think.”</p><p class="western">Bruce pointed to one side of the map. “This is Los Angeles,” he said. Then drawing his finger to the other half of the map on the opposite page he tapped a spot on the other side of the continent. “And this is Gotham.”</p><hr/><p class="western">Diego studied the map for a long moment. Los Angeles was clearly marked, as were other familiar towns in California. He scanned the open pages looking over the names, searching for ones that were familiar. On the right hand side he saw Boston, New York and Philadelphia, all of which he knew. All the space in between, however, he didn’t recognize.</p><p class="western">Gotham truly was on the opposite side of the continent. It was certainly a mystery as to how he had come to be here. He looked up at Bruce who was leaning against the desk. “I find myself very confused as to how I came to Gotham when not even an hour ago I was riding Tornado in the mountains near Los Angeles. You say this King of Clocks made some kind of machine and for some reason he used it to bring me to this city.”</p><p class="western">“That’s about the size of it,” Bruce confirmed.</p><p class="western">“Do you have any idea of what could have possibly motivated this act?” Diego was trying to make sense of this entire situation. At the same time, he was beginning to think that it might not matter if things made sense.</p><p class="western">“The thing is, I’m not sure he was trying to transport you particularly, at least, I think he was trying to get something else too. When he saw how his machine worked at the warehouse I distinctly heard him say ‘where’s my gold!’ which tells me that he was hoping that whatever his machine brought to Gotham it would come with lots of gold.” Bruce stroked his chin thoughtfully.</p><p class="western">“Well, a man using technology to acquire gold to which he has no claim is certainly not a novel idea, but I don’t see how that would involve me in the slightest.” Diego looked around the room for perhaps the tenth time. He had so many questions about this strange city. In particular, the bright lamps that filled every room but appeared to emit light without need of a flame.</p><p class="western">“From what I know of Clock King he probably intended to steal a massive amount of gold from the ground itself, he’s tried it before. He ambitious, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had an idea to use his machine to plunder the gold fields of California.” Bruce seemed to convince himself of this theory even as he said it. Leaving the desk he went back to the bookcase and began looking for another book.</p><p class="western">“‘Gold fields of California?’” Diego echoed, making it a question.</p><p class="western">“Yes,” said Bruce, “I know most of the big veins have been tapped out, but if he found information about one that hadn’t been fully mined yet he could potentially steal millions of dollars of gold with no one the wiser.”</p><p class="western">Diego’s mind was racing, what Bruce said sounded good, but every explanation only prompted three more questions. “Señor, I don’t mean to question your knowledge of the King of Clocks, but I must admit I am confused. You say this man is trying to steal gold from the ground of my home, but everyone knows that there is no gold in California.”</p><p class="western">Bruce looked up from his bookcase in surprise. “‘No gold in California?’” This time is was Bruce’s turn to echo a question. Bruce looked him up and down then asked, “What year is it in Los Angeles?”</p><p class="western">Diego was a little surprised by the question, yet he trusted that Bruce was asking for good reason. “The same as it is everywhere, Señor, 1820.”</p><p class="western">Bruce frowned. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, Diego. Here, in Gotham, the year is 1935.”</p><p class="western">Diego stared for a long minute. Such an idea was absurd, the idea that he was somehow more than a century in the future was ten times crazier than just being transported across the continent. Yet, it seemed that absurd was the order of the day. Honestly, he considered that the best strategy for the peculiar situation in which he found himself was to just accept it without overthinking. He had seen enough to know that not everything in the world made sense</p><p class="western">Considering that there was really no alternative at this time Diego gave a resigned nod. “I do not know if this is a crazy dream, or I have been struck on the head, but it seems that I have no choice but to accept it. If you say it is 1935 and that this is Gotham city, then I have no choice but to believe you. To do otherwise would simply be,” he smiled a little ironically, “illogical.”</p><p class="western">“I am flattered by your trust.” Bruce went back to perusing the shelves. Pulling a volume from the shelf he pulled a chair up to the desk and began flipping through the pages. “If we can figure out for certain what Clock King wants, we might have a chance to stop him and find a way to get you back to your own time.”</p><p class="western">“Do you think it’s possible?” Diego didn’t have even the slightest idea of how a machine that could take a person from one time to another might even work. At the same time it made a lot of sense that if a person could travel one way, it would merely be a matter of reversing the process to travel the other direction.</p><p class="western">“I do. Clock King is a devious man and I’m sure he would’ve developed his machine to to go both forwards and backwards in time. I had heard rumors that he was working on such an invention, I just didn’t think it was actually possible.”</p><p class="western"><a id="__DdeLink__231_1531676239" name="__DdeLink__231_1531676239"></a> Diego shrugged, Bruce seemed to know more about all of this than he did. “I will follow your lead in this matter, Señor.”</p><p class="western">“Please,” said Bruce, seemingly finding the page he was looking for, “call me Bruce.”</p><p class="western">“Very well, Bruce,” said Diego with a friendly nod, “I have a few more questions I would like answered tonight. Firstly,” he pointed at the small metal chandelier that hung from the ceiling, “what sort of light is it?”</p><p class="western">Bruce smiled a little. “Have I got a story for you. Let’s start with a guy named Thomas Edison.”</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. AHEAD OF ONE'S TIME</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>By day the masked vigilante of Gotham is forced to complete his appointed task under the guise of another sort, that of a wealthy philanthropist. Now, he and Don Diego are under pressure to resolve this muddled mystery in a timely manner.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce and Diego sat in his automobile as he drove them to Gotham City </span>
  <span>Public L</span>
  <span>ibrary. He wanted to talk to Barbara, see if she knew anything. He had lent Diego some of his clothes </span>
  <span>to wear for the time being. It really wouldn’t do to have him capering about Gotham dressed for a costume party, Gotham already had more than enough of those kind of people</span>
  <span>. The </span>
  <span>clothes had been an easy match, the </span>
  <span>two of them were close to the same height, though Diego’s build was slimmer. Diego was watching out of the window with great interest. Bruce supposed he probably hadn’t ever been on anything that moved faster than a horse before. It felt a little strange to be introducing him to something so alien.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce and Diego had talked late into the night. Diego was a curious </span>
  <span>and educated</span>
  <span> man and wanted to know everything. Some things, like internal combustion engines, had been a little tricky to explain. Other things, like the light bulb, were surprisingly easy to make understandable. The one invention Diego had been most impressed by was hot and cold running water. At the same time, Bruce reflected, there were still old-timers he knew who were impressed by the same thing. Running water sure beat dragging it from the well any day.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m curious,” said Diego, looking away from the window at last, “why is it that you wear a mask?” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce considered the question. “I suppose for similar reasons as yourself, Gotham is forever plagued by crime and corruption. Someone had to do something about it.” Bruce glanced over at Diego. “And you? What does el Zorro do for Los Angeles?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego flashed a small smiled. “He fights for justice for the poor and oppressed.” A moment later he said, “Strange, is it not, that more than a century apart the both of us happened upon the same idea for battling injustice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well,” said Bruce a little bashfully, “it’s not quite as much of a coincidence as it might seem.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>No?” said Diego.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You see, in the last century the tales of your adventures have become something of a legend.” Bruce felt a little heat in his face. “It was actually those legends, the legends of Zorro, that inspired me to put on a mask and take up the cause of justice.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You flatter me, Bruce. I had no idea anyone would remember my deeds.” Diego </span><span>looked out the windshield and </span><span>seemed to be reflecting on Bruce’s words. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>In modern America the stories of el Zorro are told alongside those of Robin Hood and the Scarlet Pimpernel. When I realized I needed to do something to save this city I looked at those legends and found inspiration in the masked vigilante who punished corruption and crime.” Bruce kept his eyes ahead, this topic made him feel very strongly but he didn’t want to ruin the companionable atmosphere. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You use very strong words, my friend. Zorro is nothing more than a friend to the poor and oppressed. He is no vigilante.” Diego’s tone was friendly, but thoughtful.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce looked over at Diego, a bit surprised. He hadn’t expected pushback on the way he characterized the missions of Batman and Zorro. “You don’t see Zorro as a punisher of wrongdoings?” </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Not at all,” Diego said, giving him a studying look. “Zorro fights only when he must to protect those who cannot fight for themselves. Zorro never seeks to punish, that is the job of the government and the military.” </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>In Gotham there is no one to punish wrongdoing. Every layer of this city is rife with corruption and crime. Gotham needs someone to say ‘this is enough’ and put an end to the injustice.” These were all things Bruce had thought before, but had never had </span><span>an</span><span> opportunity to say aloud. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Perhaps the situation really is so dire,” Diego said, looking back out the window at the tall buildings and smooth streets of the city. “But tell me, my friend, where does it end? Are you a good enough man to take the place of an entire government? For certain, I know I am not.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce said nothing for a long moment. “I suppose we’ll just have to find out, now won’t we.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Navigating the car through the last intersection, Bruce pulled it to a stop, parking it on the street in front of a magnificent columned building. He and Diego exited the car, Diego pausing for a moment just to take in the building.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>This is the Gotham City </span><span>Public</span><span> Library, jointly funded by my grandfather, Patrick Wayne, and Andrew Carnegie in 1890. Since then it’s been a place where all people can come and learn in Gotham City </span><span>at no cost</span><span>.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It is a magnificent idea,” said Diego, “to have free libraries for all to use.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Entering the library the two men were greeted by the sight of a gigantic circulation desk of dark wood with intricate carvings decorating the front panel. At the desk stood a young woman with glasses and long red hair.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Just the person I was hoping to see,” said Bruce.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Walking up to the desk he said in a suitably hushed voice, “Good afternoon, Barbara.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Good afternoon, Bruce. Do you need some help?” She smiled and glanced over his shoulder to </span><span>the man with him</span><span>.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Actually I do, but first let me introduce my companion to you.” Turning he gestured to Diego. “This is Diego de la Vega, somehow Clock King transported him through time from the year 1820.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara blinked, a bit taken aback. Walking around the desk she came to stand closer to them. Leaning in so they most certainly would not be overhear</span>
  <span>d,</span>
  <span> she whispered, “You mean to tell me this man has traveled through time?” </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s precisely what I mean,” said Bruce. To Diego he said, “This is Barbara Gordon. She’s a good friend of mine and I think she’ll be able to help us learn more about Clock King.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara extended her hand a little shyly. Diego took it and raising it to his lips kissed the back of it. “Your servant, Señorita.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara gave a small, embarrassed giggle as he released her hand. “I can tell he’s not from around here, Bruce, he actually has manners.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>He doesn’t understand English, so you’ll have to speak to him in Spanish. You took Spanish in college, didn’t you?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara’s eyes widened. “Only for a semester before I switched to French. Bruce, I can’t speak Spanish!” she said, a bit flustered.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I see,” said Bruce, “I suppose it doesn’t matter that much anyway. At any rate I need your help. I need to know if you’ve lent any books about gold in California recently.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>A few, yes, why do you want to know?” Barbara glanced at Diego again.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m looking for clues about Clock King, I think he’s got a scheme to steal gold through the use of time transportation. I’m hoping to get some idea of what his goal might be.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara gestured to an intimidating stack of books piled on the circulation desk. “I think we got most of those California books back just yesterday. They haven’t been checked in yet so I don’t know which ones are there exactly. I suppose you can look through them if you like.” She glanced at Diego again. “If he doesn’t understand English, what’s he going to do while you read.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce had been thinking about that. “I was hoping you’d use your lunch break and take him around the city a little bit. Maybe scout out some places Clock King might try to use as a hideout. His machine needs a reliable electricity supply, maybe the two of you can find some likely places.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara flushed a little. “I already told you I don’t speak Spanish, I can only say hello and thank you. How am I supposed to communicate with him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” Bruce didn’t particularly care if they chatted a lot or went in silence, he was eager to look at those books.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara looked at him, nonplussed. “</span>
  <span>If I’m going with him, then you owe me. </span>
  <span>When you look at these books you get to check them in for me. Also, I need some money.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Money, what for?” Bruce said as he walked around the circulation desk. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>For the trolley.” Barbara said innocently.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Fine,” said Bruce, pulling out his billfold and fishing out some notes. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara took the bills, grinning. “Let me get my pocketbook.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Turning to Diego he explained what he had </span>
  <span>just said to</span>
  <span> Barbara in Spanish. Diego didn’t seem to be concerned so that settled it for Bruce. A moment later Barbara had gotten her handbag and hat and she and Diego were leaving the library for the sunny streets of Gotham. Bruce leaned on the circulation desk, check-in stamp in hand, and began sorting through the books.</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. LIVING IN BORROWED TIME</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <em>
    <span>Gotham’s dark underbelly recedes in the daylight leaving a pleasant shell for all to see. In this innocent time young people are searching for answers in a city where secrets never sleep. What they find, however, may be more than </span>
    <span>they</span>
    <span> bargain for.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="western">On the sidewalk Barbara fidgeted with her hat, trying to get it to sit just so. She felt a little embarrassed that she didn’t really know any Spanish. Wishing she’d paid closer attention during freshman year at college she started with what she knew. “Hola, <span>¿</span>cómo estás?” Internally she cringed.</p>
<p class="western">Diego gave her a friendly smile. “Estoy bien, gracias.”</p>
<p class="western">“Sorry, I don’t speak Spanish.” With that, Barbara officially found herself at the limits of her knowledge of Spanish. “Parlez-vous francais?” she said in last ditch attempt to avoid resorting to crude sign language for communication.</p>
<p class="western">“Oui,” said Diego.</p>
<p class="western">Relief swept through her, she had had three years of French in college. Looping her arm around his she gave him a bright smile. “Let’s speak French then. I want to find places with lots of electricity.” She waved her hand to indicate largeness, feeling like her French was almost as cringeworthy as her Spanish.</p>
<p class="western">Diego seemed to understand and nodded. “Lead the way, <span>Señorita. Excuse me, I mean Mademoiselle.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara grinned, </span>
  <span>feeling her confidence return. It was reassuring</span>
  <span> that he seemed to be taking this all in stride</span>
  <span>. </span>
  <span>She knew if this were happening to Bruce he’d be a </span>
  <span>
    <em>lot</em>
  </span>
  <span> less fun.</span>
  <span> “Let’s go to the hospital first.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>To get to the hospital it was necessary to either drive, or take a trolley, as it was on the edge of the city. Since </span>
  <span>Bruce didn’t see fit to give Barbara use of his car </span>
  <span>the latter was the only option. “Have you ever been on a trolley?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego shook his head. “No, I don’t even know what a trolley is.” </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara heard the dinging sound coming down the street. “You’ll see in a moment.” Pointing at the hill she directed Diego’s attention to the street. A second later a cheerfully red trolley car crested the hill, a little bell ringing to give warning to pedestrians and cars alike.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Come on, we need to be fast.” Grabbing Diego’s hand </span><span>in one hand, and holding onto her hat with the other, </span><span>she sprinted across the street with him just as the trolley was slowing down for people waiting at the stop to get on. Hastening aboard she </span><span>dug some coins from the bottom of her handbag and </span><span>paid the fare for the both of them. “The streetcar waits for no man,” she said, turning to Diego </span><span>a little bit breathless</span><span>.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Apparently not,” Diego said, </span><span>also a little breathless.</span> <span>He shook</span><span> his head </span><span>in a bemused way</span><span>. “It seems life in the 20</span><sup><span>th</span></sup><span> century goes quite fast.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It sure does.” Pointing to the loops </span><span>hanging from the ceiling of the vehicle she said, “You’</span><span>ll want to hold those.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Just as he took the strap in his hand the trolley set off again, causing him to step awkwardly trying to regain his balance.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Catching his arm she steadied him. Flashing a smile she said, “The first time is always rough.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The streetcar took them all the way to the outskirts of town </span>
  <span>depositing them at the hospital stop. Taking Diego’s arm again she led him to the sidewalk in front of the hospital. “This is the new hospital, it was built by the Wayne family twenty years ago with the newest technology. It’s free, and everyone in Gotham comes here when they’re sick. It’s also </span>
  <span>one of the few places in Gotham with a really strong connection to </span>
  <span>electricity.</span>
  <span>” </span>
  <span>S</span>
  <span>he pointed to the power lines.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>The Wayne family does many things for Gotham.” Diego observed.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>They do, or they did more until recently. Not that Bruce doesn’t give to the city, he just prefers to help it in other ways.</span><span>” Barbara felt a little silly at how rusty her French had become. She really ought to practice more.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Do you think the King of Clocks will try to use his machine here?” Diego was looking at the hospital campus with a shrewd eye. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I don’t know.” Barbara wasn’t really sure what she was supposed to be looking for, Bruce had been light on the details.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Let’s have a look around.” </span><span>Diego motioned towards the building and the two of them walked up the path.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>After nearly twenty minutes of walking around the building and pointing out various features, both Barbara and Diego were of an opinion that Clock King would not try and use the hospital for his next attempt at stealing gold.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s just too busy,” said Barbara with a sigh, “and like you said, there’s not enough space.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Where now?” Diego asked.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I have a few ideas.” said Barbara, pulling out a small notebook and scribbling down a list. “Next stop, the baseball stadium.”</span></p>
<hr/>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego and Barbara spent the better part of two hours going from place to place trying to find a likely spot for the Clock King to attempt his big heist. They crossed the baseball stadium off the list because of it’s easy public access. Similarly they crossed off the train station, the trolley lines and Gotham City College. Between the two of them, even with somewhat limited French, they were able to come up with a list of things to look for at any given location. </span>
  <span>The three most important factors were size – it had to be big enough to hold a lot of gold, electricity – it had to have a good power supply for the time machine to work, and location – it had to be private enough so he wouldn’t be disturbed. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Exiting the trolley for the last time they were in the city center once more. Diego was almost getting the hang of riding on the streetcar. Everything moved so fast here, it was simultaneously overwhelming and energizing. He felt very much like </span>
  <span>he had</span>
  <span> when he first went to Madrid from Los Angeles. The city had seemed so big and so busy compared to the modest pueblo of his childhood. Gotham was to Madrid as Madrid had been Los Angeles. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>B</span>
  <span>arbara pulled her notebook from the pocket of her cardigan and consulted her list. “</span>
  <span>The last place on my paper is the courthouse, but I think it probably won’t work for the same reasons as the other places.” </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I agree, but it can’t hurt to check it out.” Offering her his arm the pair went to the courthouse where they were greeted by a notice on the door.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Closed,” said Barbara. “It says it’s going to be closed for painting starting Friday.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Does that mean there won’t be people around?” Diego studied the notice even though he couldn’t really read it.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes,” said Barbara. “And I </span><span>think the electricity</span><span> won’t be turned off.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Will King of Clocks have access to this building?” Diego saw at least two uniformed men carrying guns keeping guard of the perimeter.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>He just might</span><span>. I’ll ask my father if police will be posted during the painting.” Barbara scribbled down a copy of the notice into her notebook. “He’s the police commissioner so he should know.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego adjusted his hat to better shield his face from the afternoon sun. </span>
  <span>“</span>
  <span>So we have idea</span>
  <span>s</span>
  <span> for where, and when. What else do we need to know?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Nothing, at least until we can talk to Bruce again.” Barbara stowed her notebook in her purse, snapping it shut.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Shall we head to the library?” Diego offered Barbara his arm once more.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Taking his arm </span>
  <span>Barbara twirled a lock of her hair around her finger. “I’m certain that Bruce isn’t done with that stack of books yet. Let’s give him a little more time.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Then what shall we do?” Diego could sense she had a plan of some kind.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well, I thought that since you’re new to this century I might show around and get you acquainted with modern life.” </span><span>Barbara smiled mysteriously.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego was intrigued. “What are you proposing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Tugging gently on his arm, Barbara led him down the street. “I’m going to take you to a moving picture.” Adjusting her glasses she gave him a charming grin. “Prepare to be amazed!”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p class="western">
  <span>Br</span>
  <span>uce tapped his fingers on the circulation desk impatiently. Barbara and Diego had been gone for a lot longer than a typical library lunch break. </span>
  <span>He was beginning to wonder if maybe they had found Clock King and decided to </span>
  <span>take him on right then and there. It would be a really strange situation if Barbara and Diego were out solving the case while he was stuck talking his way out of trouble with the library director.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You’re sure that Commissioner Gordon called Barb home this afternoon.” The library director glared at him.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes, he said it was urgent. I promised Barbara that I’d watch the desk for her.” He tried his hardest to be winning but it wasn’t coming naturally.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’ll be sure to ask Barb about it tomorrow.” She gave him one last skeptical look before turning away from the desk and heading back to </span><span>her</span><span> office.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bruce let out a sigh of relief. He was pretty sure that it was only his </span>
  <span>family’s</span>
  <span> excessive patronage of the library that </span>
  <span>saved him from being sent away. He would have to fill Barbara in on the lie he told.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Just then he heard Barbara’s laugh and finally she and Diego had returned. Swiftly picking up two volumes he raced around the desk and caught up to the pair.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Bruce,” said Barbara with a smile, “how did your research go?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Fine,” said Bruce, taking Barbara’s elbow and turning her around. “</span><span>We’ve got a- is that cotton candy?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara looked at the fluffy pink orb wrapped around a stick in her hand. “Diego’s never had it before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You were supposed to be helping me find Clock King,” said Bruce a little huffily as he guided Barbara towards the door.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>We were, but I wanted Diego to see a little bit of the future too, so when we finished I took him around a little.” Barbara pinched off a little of the cotton candy and held it out to Bruce. “You want some?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>No,” said Bruce a tad irritably. </span><span>He didn’t know why she was so jovial about all of this.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Why are we getting out of here so fast anyway?” Barbara asked as she ate the previously proffered candy.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Because,” said Bruce, </span><span>“we have lots to talk about but I told your director that you went home so it’s best if we leave.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara rolled her eyes as the three of them proceeded to leave the building </span>
  <span>and descended the steps to the street</span>
  <span>. “Bruce, if you get me in trouble with her I swear to God-”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m sure you’ll be fine.” </span><span>It would surprise Bruce greatly if anything was said about it at all. Barbara had a lot of protection in Gotham being the police commissioner’s daughter.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Did you check those out?” Barbara nodded to the books in Bruce’s hand.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’ll bring them back.” Bruce didn’t actually have a public library card. When he wanted a book he just bought it.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Bruce!” Barbara’s tone was both shocked and scolding.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’ll bring them back, in fact, w</span><span>hy don’t you come to my house for supper and we can talk about </span><span>everything we’ve learned today</span> <span>and I’ll give them to you to take to work tomorrow</span><span>.” Bruce led her to the car </span><span>and opened the passenger side door for her</span><span>.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Okay, but I’ll have to ring my old man when we get there.” Barbara slid into the center seat of Bruce’s car as he took the driver’s seat and Diego took the passenger’s seat.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Starting</span>
  <span> the </span>
  <span>quiet electric </span>
  <span>engine Bruce pulled into the street. “That’s fine, tell him you’ll be a bit late, </span>
  <span>our conversations will probably run long</span>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. ALL IN GOOD TIME</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <em> Night falls on Gotham and our heroes take some down time to learn as much as they can about this time traveling thief. They must act swiftly as the tolling of the bell and the chiming of the clock are ringing in their fate. </em>
</p><hr/><p class="western">Barbara hung up the telephone and rejoined Bruce in the study. Diego was at the stables checking on his horse for the night. “Dad says it’s okay for me to stay late, but you’re gonna need to drive me home.”</p><p class="western">“That’s fine,” said Bruce, “did you ask him about the courthouse?”</p><p class="western">“Yeah,” Barbara said as she flipped open her notebook, “he told me that it’s gonna be closed starting Friday and will be closed until next week. The big courtroom is being repainted. He said there’s gonna be one patrol officer keeping an eye on the area, but I guess the Tockman guy also has his own security too.”</p><p class="western">“Wait, Tockman?”</p><p class="western">“Yeah, he’s the guy the owns the painting company.” Barbara wondered what Bruce was thinking.</p><p class="western">Bruce pulled out one of the books he had stolen from the library that afternoon and opened it to the back. On the end paper a small card was glued. He handed the book to Barbara who looked at the name written on the checkout slip.</p><p class="western">“William Tockman.” Barbara looked up to Bruce. “It’s the same as the guy who’s going to be doing the painting.” Barbara looked at the cover of the book. The brown fabric had cheap gold lettering that read <em>An History of the California Gold Rush</em>. “Does this mean William Tockman is Clock King?”</p><p class="western">“I think it does,” said Bruce, “Tockman or Clock King will be at the courthouse on Friday with his time machine. Now comes the hard part, Barbara.”</p><p class="western">Barbara suddenly felt her stomach clench. “What do you mean?”</p><p class="western">Bruce went to his desk and came back with a small leather bag. “These are the tools Clock King invented for his time machine.” Opening the bag he pulled out a small leather book. “And this is his inventor’s journal.”</p><p class="western">“You’re not seriously expecting me to rewire a <em>time machine, </em>Bruce.” Barbara felt pretty sure he <em>was</em> seriously asking her to do that.</p><p class="western">“You’re the best at radios, engines and inventions, Barbara, I know for sure I won’t be able to do it. I’ve already looked through the journal and couldn’t make head nor tail of it.”</p><p class="western">“Bruce, this is insane. A radio or an engine aren’t anything at all like a time machine.” Barbara was beginning to feel like that didn’t matter though. What other options did they have?</p><p class="western">“You don’t know that, you’ve never worked on a time machine before. Just take a look at the journal, it’s really not that different from stuff you know about.” Bruce proffered her the book.</p><p class="western">Taking it, Barbara leafed through the pages. The journal was very detailed with every step of the inventing process documented. There were even detailed diagrams throughout showing the construction from the ground up. Clock King had really put a lot of time and effort into this book.</p><p class="western">“Where did you get this anyway?”</p><p class="western">“Clock King left it behind with all of his tools when he fled the scene yesterday. He seemed to only care about his time machine.” Bruce waited for a moment before asking, “So, do you think you can do it?”</p><p class="western">Barbara gazed at the pages in front of her. “I really don’t know, Bruce. I see what you mean though, it’s all written out very clearly. I just don’t know if I can hot-wire a time machine to make it do what we want it to.”</p><p class="western">“Barbara, you’re the best at technology, I know you can do this.”</p><p class="western">Barbara didn’t feel nearly so confident. “I’m going to need some time to read it through properly.”</p><p class="western">Bruce nodded. “You’ve got until Friday, that’s two days. Do you think it’ll be enough time?”</p><p class="western">Barbara bit her lip. “I hope so.”</p><p class="western">The door to the study opened and Diego appeared in the doorway. For the next few minutes Barbara and Bruce filled him in on the situation using an interesting mix of French and Spanish.</p><p class="western">“So,” said Barbara as she put aside Clock King’s journal, “it seems that there’s nothing more we can do until Friday.”</p><p class="western">“Nothing more we can do about the King of Clocks until Friday,” Diego corrected with a grin.</p><p class="western">“What do you mean?” Barbara sensed he had some plan.</p><p class="western">“We have a lovely evening and even lovelier company.” He offered her his hand.</p><p class="western">Barbara put her hand in his, blushing. “What do you propose?”</p><p class="western">“I propose we find an instrument, play some tunes and entertain ourselves with music and dancing,” he said charmingly.</p><p class="western">Barbara found herself smiling, the heavy prospect of tampering with a time machine completely forgotten. “We don’t need instruments for music, Bruce has a wireless.” Turning to Bruce she said, “Bruce, can you turn on the wireless, Diego wants to dance.”</p><p class="western">Bruce blinked, a little surprised but a second later he turned on the large radio set that stood against the wall.</p><p class="western">Barbara turned back to Diego, her eyes sparkling. “I bet you don’t know any of the modern dances, do you want me to teach you?”</p><p class="western">“It would be most delightful,” said Diego. He looked intrigued.</p><p class="western">“Let’s do an easy one, it’s called the foxtrot.” Barbara put her hand in his and her arm on his shoulder. “It’s the easiest thing. Just follow my lead.”</p><p class="western">After a couple of missteps she was able to communicate the idea of the foxtrot to Diego and found that he picked it up very quickly. He was a good dancer and the two of them moved fluidly around the room. Over the wireless she heard the swingy opening bars to the summer’s hit song.</p><p class="western">“This is my favorite, it’s called <em>Cheek to Cheek</em>.” Leaning even closer she demonstrated.</p><p class="western">“I think I like these new dances,” said Diego. She could hear the smile in his voice.</p><hr/><p class="western">Bruce watched as Barbara and Diego glided around room. Suddenly his study didn’t seem like a stiff and humorless place to solve crimes as much as relaxed and friendly haven. He hadn’t really thought about it a lot, but his home didn’t see much in the way of fun. Sure, he’d host the occasional gala or party, but he never invited friends like Barbara over to just relax and spend time together. Often he found himself so preoccupied with his work as Batman that he neglected all but the most minimal of social activities. He wondered if that was a good thing.</p><p class="western">Diego seemed to have no problem switching from solving a mystery to enjoying himself. Neither did Barbara for that matter. Normally he would have brushed it off as immaturity. Barbara was young and sheltered and didn’t really know how things went in the world. Diego, though, Bruce wouldn’t call him immature. Not only was he was serious and quiet, he came from a time where life was very much harder than it was now, and yet he somehow seemed to hold on to his fun spirit.</p><p class="western">Was he the problem? He hadn’t considered that before. Barbara often told him that he took things too seriously. He always retorted that she didn’t take things seriously enough. She would always laugh at him, which he didn’t like. Diego, though, he laughed to. He laughed and smiled and suggested dancing and music when they were in the middle of a case. Bruce would have expected someone taken from their own time like this to be solemn, nervous or even afraid. He was none of those things.</p><p class="western">Bruce thought back to when he was a boy. It seemed like so long ago now, a life he almost couldn’t remember. He thought back to the books his father would read to him before bed. The adventures of Robin Hood, the Scarlet Pimpernel and Zorro. Swashbuckling heroes who fought for right but also had a zest for life.</p><p class="western">Zorro had always captivated him the most. A man that put on a mask to conceal his identity and fought tirelessly against the corrupt officials that did nothing to protect the citizens. With sword and whip Zorro fought all wrongdoers, saving the day and returning order to Los Angeles.</p><p class="western">As an adult he had always thought those stories were more or less fantasy. Made up tales to trick kids into believing that the good guys could win. He wondered to himself where that more cynical side of his personality had come from. Maybe he had been Batman a little too long, seen a little too much of the bad side of Gotham. How did Diego do it? How did he keep his spark?</p><p class="western">Because, it wasn’t the cynical adult who had become Batman in the beginning. Batman began as a way to right a wrong he had not been protected from as a child. In some ways Batman was him, eight-year-old him, becoming the good guy that Gotham needed.</p><p class="western">Watching Diego and Barbara it struck him that somewhere along the way he had started to forget why he had picked up the mask in the first place.</p><p class="western">Diego knew why he did, so many people in his society had no social protection and needed someone to step up and protect them. He fought for them using every advantage he had available. In a highly stratified society he used his status, social position and wealth to help people, along with his activities as Zorro. He was sure that Diego was a loved member of his community. Even now people were probably going mad with worry since he had just vanished.</p><p class="western">Barbara knew why she did, she wanted to help people but Gotham didn’t have any women cops, so she decided to take matters into her own hands and fight for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. She put on the mask and fought to protect Gotham. But, during the day, she contributed to Gotham too. She worked at the library and volunteered for charities and had friends and family and was a member of society. She gave of herself and really made something of herself. If – God forbid – anything ever happened to her, she would be sorely missed.</p><p class="western">But him? Why did he wear the mask?</p><p class="western">He thought about Diego’s words from earlier. Was he really living his life only to punish criminals? It certainly seemed that way. How much of his life was he missing in this endless pursuit? Gotham still needed Batman, but didn’t it also need Bruce? Not just as a mask for the dark knight, but as a real person who really lived in Gotham. One who had friends and family and a life of his own. One that poured himself into the city for the betterment of all – during the day and during the night.</p><p class="western">Because, right at this very moment, he was having a hard time imagining what the funeral would look like if Bruce Wayne were to die right then. When his parents had died so many people in Gotham had come to mourn them. The same with his grandfather. It was as though the entire city had felt the pain of their passing. They had all done so much for Gotham and had never needed to dress in cape or cowl to do so. In his mind’s eye he imagined his graveside. Barbara might be there. And Alfred. He could think of precious few others.</p><p class="western">The song came to a close and Barbara smiled up at Diego. He could see that she was enjoying herself. Diego was as well. Rising Bruce strode over to the pair and held out his hand to Barbara. “If I might cut in.”</p><p class="western">Barbara raised her eyebrows. “An unexpected pleasure, Mr. Wayne.”</p><p class="western">Bruce quirked a small smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Gordon.”</p><p class="western">Diego stepped back as the next song came on and Bruce and Barbara started to dance. Bruce felt himself relax and with each step thoughts of the case receded further and further from his mind. <em>Yes</em>, he thought, <em>Bruce Wayne needed to live a little.</em></p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. IN THE ELEVENTH HOUR</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <em> The moon shines bright on the streets of Gotham as as the fate of a certain time traveler perhaps draws to an untimely end. </em>
</p><hr/><p class="western">Clock King scurried furtively up the stairs of the courthouse. In one hand his Time-Ray, carefully protected in a large canvas duffle, in his other hand, a large flashlight. The main courtroom was his destination, situated as it was just under the magnificent courthouse clock. To all the world he looked like a painter going about his business on the night shift. All the world was stupid.</p><p class="western">Stripping out of the painter’s coveralls he wore over his brown suit he began to unpack his Time-Ray. He had found it exceedingly difficult to find an ideal location for his heist, but beggars can’t be choosers. After tonight he would be a beggar no more.</p><p class="western">Running a cord from the wall to his machine he unpacked his tools to finish his adjustments. These tools weren’t the ones that he had used before, he didn’t have any time to get those tools before fleeing the mad horse. No, they weren’t specialized, but they’d have to do. Tonight there would be no mistakes. Tonight he would be the richest man in the world.</p><p class="western">He patted his machine gently. “I almost lost you to that demon horse a few days ago. Thank goodness he tried to kill Batman instead of you.” He wondered if the horse <em>had </em> killed Batman. It would certainly make his life easier if the animal had. He wasn’t a man who liked to leave things to chance, however. This time he was armed. If Batman showed up again he would have Clock King <em>and</em> his sword to deal with.</p><p class="western">His plan was perfect. Beyond perfect even. The courtroom and gallery were enormous – for all of Gotham’s high profile crimes, he supposed. He brought with him dozens of sacks to fill with all the gold he was about to beam into the room. Once the bags were filled he would drop them down the mail chute where they would collect together. Then it was a simple matter of putting them into his truck and driving away. The crime of the century and he didn’t even steal from it.</p><p class="western">During his research into the California Gold Rush he’d found lots of interesting estimates for how much gold might be in this vein or that. The one he wanted was supposedly home to one million ounces of gold. He didn’t know how much that would be, but he liked the sound of it. One million. He shivered with anticipation. This time he wouldn’t be stopped by a stupid horse!</p><p class="western">Laying everything out like he planned he balanced the flashlight on it’s end pointed to the ceiling to give the entire room some pale light. Pulling out another flashlight he came back to the Time-Ray. It was time for round two. Once again he twisted the dials and the knobs on the machine, putting the settings to how they had been last time.</p><p class="western">Year: 1820.</p><p class="western">City: Los Angeles.</p><p class="western">Target:...</p><p class="western">He was just about to type in the name of his target when a husky voice behind him said, “Time’s up, Tockman!”</p><hr/><p class="western">“Not this time, Batman!” Clock King whirled around, stepping away from his machine and dropping his small flashlight. “I came prepared.”</p><p class="western">Batman jumped back a step as Clock King drew his sword. Drawing his knife he crouched, ready for combat. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder.</p><p class="western">“Señor,” said Zorro, “if you will allow me.”</p><p class="western">Batman hesitated for a second before stepping back. He wasn’t used to watching while someone else did the fighting.</p><p class="western">Zorro stepped forward drawing his sword and saying only the universally understood command of swordsmen everywhere, “En garde!”</p><p class="western">And combat commenced. The two danced back and forth around the floor of the courtroom, blocking, parrying, jabbing. Clock King attempted to get in under Zorro’s guard, but Zorro deflected. Back and forth the sound of steel upon steel rang through the otherwise silent chamber.</p><p class="western">The two of them worked their way around the edge of the room. Neither gave any quarter. Zorro lunged at Clock King, who parried away the blow. Clock King swiped his sword through the air in a big movement, but his blade caught only nothing. Zorro, reacting quickly, had ducked. The blade missed him altogether.</p><p class="western">As the pair battled in the semi-dark room it struck Batman that Zorro wasn’t only defending himself, he was having <em>fun</em>. The masked man laughed as he traded blows with his opponent. Occasionally he called out jibes which Batman was sure Clock King didn’t understand but seemed to enrage him all the same. He teased and taunted his opponent in a way that, had Batman not known better, would have convinced him that this man was immature and childish.</p><p class="western">“Batman, I need your help!”</p><p class="western">Batgirl’s voice cut into Batman’s thoughts. Spinning on his heel he ran to where she stood next to the time machine. “What is it, Batgirl?”</p><p class="western">“I need three hands for this, possibly even four,” she said as she pointed to the panels that made up the box of the machine. “You’ve got to hold this open for me. If I open up this box all the way there’s a chance that I could damage some of the electric wiring. I need you to hold this open just enough so I can get my hands in there, and also hold the flashlight so I can see.”</p><p class="western">Batman picked up Clock King’s forgotten flashlight and followed Batgirl’s instructions.</p><hr/><p class="western">Batgirl could feel sweat collecting under her cowl. And honestly, everywhere. She was so nervous she’d get something wrong. Messing around with transistors and radios was one thing, what if she messed this up big time? What if she sent Diego to the wrong year? Or worse, got him killed? Bruce’s blind faith in her abilities didn’t really make her feel better right now. Taking off her gloves she dried her hands as best she could. No time like the present.</p><p class="western">She had done nothing but study Clock King’s time machine journal for the last two days, she’d even called off sick from the library to do it. Now she had to hope she’d learned enough. Taking a deep breath she snaked her slim hands into the small opening of the machine Batman created for her. As long as he held it steady there should be nothing to worry about.</p><p class="western">At least, that’s what she told herself.</p><p class="western">Her fingers gingerly traced the intricate machinery that filled the Time-Ray. Mentally she envisioned every gear and cog as she tried to find what she was looking for. Somewhere inside there was a crystal that she needed to find and reverse. Doing so should reverse the time capabilities of the machine and make it possible to send Diego back to where he belonged. Or strand him in a foreign time forever. Or electrocute him. So many happy prospects.</p><p class="western">“Batgirl.”</p><p class="western">She was so tense she almost jumped.</p><p class="western">“What?” she snapped. She didn’t dare tear her eyes away from what little she could see of the inside of the box.</p><p class="western">“This thing is still plugged in.” Batman’s voice carried a note of concern.</p><p class="western">“I know,” said Batgirl, “it’s the only way I can do this. I read his book forward and backward and this is the only way to change anything on it, when it’s fully electrified.”</p><p class="western">“Are you sure this is the only way?” Batman didn’t sound very happy about this.</p><p class="western">“Yes, Batman. This is the only way.” Feeling the crystal she was looking for at last she breathed a half-sigh of relief. “Now hand me the forceps with the weird paddle hands.” In place of her usual gear, her utility belt sported the strange tools crafted by Clock Man for this particular invention. All of them were made of non-reactive materials which Batgirl was especially glad of.</p><p class="western">Putting the flashlight in his mouth, Batman fumbled for the tool at Batgirl’s waist. If the situation had been any less serious she would have giggled or said a smart remark. He managed to find the tool she wanted as she worked her left hand free of the box to accept the instrument.</p><p class="western">“Wish me luck,” she said as she gently manipulated the tool into the correct position.</p><p class="western">“Good luck,” said Batman.</p><p class="western">She could hear the tension in his voice. Taking a calming breath she forced herself to focus. Feeling the crystal under her fingers she wedged the tool into place and felt the crystal come free.</p><hr/><p class="western">Zorro ducked, hearing the air whistle as Clock King’s sword whipped through the air over his head. Laughing, he sprang up and returned the favor. Clock King fell back then lunged forward. Zorro parried the blade, trying to find a way past Clock King’s defenses. His sword snaked in trying to find a point of entry. Clock King batted it away, flicking his blade in an attempt to disarm Zorro.</p><p class="western">Zorro feinted to the left, then redoubled his attack. Clock King stepped to the side forcing Zorro to have his back to the wall. Clock King seemed to feel that he had the advantage and laughed triumphantly.</p><p class="western">“<em>Play time’s over!”</em> With that Clock King lunged for the kill.</p><p class="western">Zorro dropped to the ground as the sword hit the wall with a thud and buried itself halfway up the blade.</p><p class="western">“<em>No!”</em> squealed Clock King, realizing what had happened.</p><p class="western">Zorro jumped to his feet once more, his sword tip firmly touching Clock King’s chest. “Yield, señor.”</p><p class="western">Clock King raised his hands in surrender. His eyes darted about the room furiously, seemingly looking for an escape.</p><p class="western">Zorro prodded him gently and pointed away from the machine that Batgirl and Batman were concentrating on.</p><p class="western">Cautiously, Clock King turned around and started in the direction Zorro had pointed. Then suddenly he made a break for it. Diving over the railing that divided the gallery from the rest of the trial room Clock King ran to the wall and yanked open a small panel. Hanging off the door he looked around the room at large for a split second before saying, “<em>You won’t catch me next time!</em>” Then diving into the opening headfirst he disappeared.</p><p class="western">Racing to the small door Zorro saw it was the opening to a small metal chute that must lead outside of the building. A moment later the sound of a loud mechanical engine could be heard. Zorro had a feeling that Clock King had gotten away.</p><p class="western">Turning to the other two he sheathed his sword. “What now?” he asked.</p><p class="western">“We’re almost done,” said Batman. “Well, Batgirl’s almost done,” he amended.</p><p class="western">Batgirl had her hands completely inside the machine and seemed to be turning some sort of screwdriver. A second later the machine gave a definite <em>click</em> and Batgirl breathed a sigh of relief. “ <em>I think I’ve done it, Batman. I’ve </em> <em>not only reset this thing, I’ve</em> <em> actually rebuilt a time machine.</em>”</p><p class="western">Batman looked at Zorro. “It’s time to get going.”</p><hr/><p class="western">Batgirl felt a little nervous. She would never know if it really worked, if she really managed to send Diego back to his own time. She felt a little sick thinking about all the things that could go wrong. She didn’t know how she was going to be able to live with herself after this. Hugging herself she tried to push those thoughts from her mind.</p><p class="western">Zorro had managed to get Tornado up the courthouse steps and into the courtroom. Now he was talking to the animal in a low and comforting voice. Batgirl felt sorry for the horse too. What had he ever done to deserve this? Poor thing. Batgirl felt a strong hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Batman standing there.</p><p class="western">“It’s going to be okay.” He voice was calm but Batgirl felt little reassurance.</p><p class="western">“But what if he isn’t, and what if we never know? Batman, he’s putting a lot of trust in us.”</p><p class="western">Batman gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. “He trusts you and I do too, you’ve outdone yourself tonight.”</p><p class="western">She patted his hand and tried to smile. “I guess all that’s left is to say goodbye.”</p><p class="western">The two of them came over just as Zorro was carefully tying a blindfold over Tornado’s eyes. “Just so he doesn’t panic when we make it back to Los Angeles,” he said with a smile. He patted Tornado’s neck affectionately.</p><p class="western">“Are you ready?” said Batman.</p><p class="western">“As ready as one can ever be on only the second occasion of traveling through time.” Zorro gently caressed Tornado’s mane.</p><p class="western">“Diego,” said Batgirl, “I want to say that I’ve had a lot of fun these last few days. I’m going to miss you a lot. I hope you get back to your own time and everything’s okay and, well-” Not knowing what else to say she flung her arms around his neck giving him a strong, brief hug and a kiss on the cheek before stepping back. He took her hands in his and gently kissed the back of them.</p><p class="western">“Farewell, señorita. I will miss you as well.” He released her hands and Bruce stepped forward to give him a final handshake.</p><p class="western">“Goodbye, el Zorro.”</p><p class="western">Batgirl and Batman retreated to the Time-Ray as Zorro mounted his horse. The city clock began to chime.</p><p class="western"><em> Ding </em> . Batgirl held the flashlight up the Time-Ray. <em> Ding </em> . Scanning the machine she found the knob that controlled the year. <em> Ding. </em> Twisting it, she rolled the dial backwards. <em> Ding </em> . Hearing it click as the numbers scrolled past she finally stopped on the year 1820. <em> Ding </em> . Her fingers fondled the location control. <em> Ding </em> . She turned the knob through a dozen cities until she found Los Angeles. <em> Ding </em> . Moving to the other side of the machine she looked at the keyboard. Nervously, she touched the keys afraid to make a mistake. <em> Ding </em> . Gathering herself she typed in two words: el Zorro. <em> Ding. </em> Reaching for the lever she looked at Zorro one last time. <em> Ding </em> . Pulling it back she heard the electricity set every part of the machine into motion. Light erupted from the nozzle of the Time-Ray filling the room with an unearthly blazing light. <em> Ding </em>. Zorro, Tornado and the alien light vanished, leaving the room eerily silent and dark.</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. EPILOGUE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <b> Gotham, Two Weeks Later </b>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Bruce walked up to the circulation desk at the library and waited for Barbara to notice him. She seemed preoccupied with the book she was perusing, doubtless she was supposed to be checking it in instead of reading it. Smiling a little he began whistling the tune to <em>Cheek to Cheek</em>.</p><p class="western">“No whistling in the- oh it’s you Bruce.” Barbara smiled when she saw him. “What can I help you with?”</p><p class="western">“I just stopped by to let you know that I’m going to be out of town for a couple weeks.”</p><p class="western">“Anywhere fun?”</p><p class="western">Bruce leaned on the desk so he could speak to her a little more quietly. “I don’t know about fun, but I’m going to Los Angeles, I want to dig through some archives and see if we can find out what happened to our friend.”</p><p class="western">Barbara’s face lit up. “Really? Bruce if you find anything you’ve got to phone me immediately. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night or whatever, I’ve got to know.”</p><p class="western">“I was planning on it.” Bruce and Barbara had both felt a heaviness from the uncertainty of whether or not Diego was safe in his own time again. “At any rate,” Bruce continued, “while I’m gone I’m going to need you to hold down the fort for me.”</p><p class="western">“You got it.” Barbara flashed him a smile. “Good luck, Bruce.”</p><p class="western"> </p><hr/><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">
  <b> Los Angeles, 1820 </b>
</p><p class="western"> </p><p class="western">Zorro gazed over the moonlit hillside. Tornado stamped nervously as he undid the blindfold.</p><p class="western">“It’s okay, boy. We are safe.”</p><p class="western">Tornado, seeing once more gave a happy whinny and proceeded to trot down the hill to the road. The moon was full and Zorro could easily see the landscape. Taking in a breath he smelled the air. It was sweet and clear. In the distance he heard the sounds of the nighttime animals and the faint chiming of a church bell. A small breeze tugged playfully at his cape. There was only one place in the world this could be. Seeing the way before him clear and free Zorro kicked Tornado’s side’s lightly.</p><p class="western">“Come on, Tornado. It’s time to go home.”</p><p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. DELETED SCENE: ICE CREAM AND A MOVIE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A deleted scene from Chapter 4</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">
  <span>Diego and Barbara strolled down the sidewalk towards the flashing </span>
  <span>wedge-shaped</span>
  <span> marquee outside the movie theater. Diego paused to study it, it was amazing to think that so much energy was being produced just to light a sign. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Isn’t it beautiful?” Barbara turned to him with a grin.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s spectacular, what does it say?” Diego could pick out a couple of the words but overall it was unclear.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well, you know how I said that motion pictures are like theater plays? Well this sign is advertising what shows are playing.” Barbara studied the sign for a moment and wrinkled her nose. “If this is going to be your first film I want it to be a good one.” Leaving him she walked over to look at the other side of the marquee. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego joined her and scanned the sign himself. His eyes were immediately drawn to one word. “Zorro?” he said.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh my word. Diego, it’s your movie!” Barbara grabbed his arm. “</span><em>The Mark of Zorro,</em><span> we have to go see it.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>What do you mean?” Diego said, a bit bemused.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Diego, it’s a show based on your legends.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>My legends?” Bruce had said something similar earlier. It was strange to think that tales of his exploits had been passed down through the generations for more than a hundred years. Strange and more than a little flattering. </span><em>This has to be some sort of dream</em><span>, he thought, </span><em>only in a dream would I find myself so flattered</em><span>.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh, yes. Zorro is one of the most popular heroes of the silver screen. This motion picture is a bit old, but we have to see it.” Barbara’s eyes shone with excitement.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>If you insist,” Diego said with a smile. He enjoyed seeing her happy.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara looked at the marquee again then went to the ticket window and asked the teller about the show times. Coming back to Diego she took his arm saying, “The showing starts in an hour, let’s go get an ice cream while we wait.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Ice cream?” Diego was a bit surprised at the suggestion.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara stopped in her tracks. “You have had ice cream before, haven’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego shook his head. “No, I know it was very popular among the nobility in Europe when I was at university but I never had an opportunity to try it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara began walking again, faster this time. “We must rectify that at once!”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>After a few minutes of discussion it was decided that Diego should try vanilla ice cream. He marveled at the small cold cart where the ice cream was kept. When he was handed the cone he touched the frozen concoction and tasted it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Do you like it?” Barbara was at his elbow watching him with anticipation.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s very sweet,” Diego remarked, “and tastes very strongly of vanilla, is it expensive?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Not at all, I suppose vanilla was more of a rare commodity back in your day. Now it’s everywhere.” Barbara grinned. “So, do you like it?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego took another taste. The coldness mixing with the sweetness was a new and delightful experience. Barbara was watching him closely. “It tastes wonderful,” he said at last.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I knew you’d like it!” She was obviously having fun introducing him to new things. “Now try a bit of mine, it’s strawberry flavored.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego tasted the proffered desert. “This is quite excellent as well.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I think ice cream is the best inventions of modern man.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego smiled, looking around the street at all the inventions that he never could have dreamed of. Tasting the ice cream again he nodded. “I think it is certainly close to the top.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The pair of them walked down the street in the general direction of the movie theater eating their ice creams. “Tell me,” Diego said, “what exactly is a motion picture, what is it like? I cannot get an image of how it will look in my mind’s eye.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara ate her ice cream thoughtfully for a moment. After a long pause she finally said, “Have you ever seen a magic lantern show?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes.” Diego thought back to his time in Spain. “A few of my lecturers at university would use them from time to time. They showed very interesting engravings or painted scenes.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Okay,” said Barbara with more confidence, “did you ever see any that had a mechanism to make the image move in some way?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego nodded. “I remember seeing a magic lantern show where each slide moved in some way, it was very entertaining.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Great, now keep that in your mind.” Barbara thought for another minute, she seemed to be searching for the perfect words. “Now imagine that someone made a bunch of slides, each one just a little different than the one before and the one after.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego tried to imagine it but wasn’t entirely sure what to picture.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara apparently saw the look on his face and tried again. “Here, let’s try something a bit more concrete. Look at the crosswalk.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego did as instructed. The traffic light changed from green to red causing the automobiles to come to a halt. Pedestrians on the sidewalks took the chance to cross the street while the traffic was stopped.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Do you see that woman in the blue dress with the little girl?” Barbara guided his attention to a particular pedestrian.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes.” Diego wasn’t sure how this was relating back to </span><span>the</span><span> motion picture.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Imagine that someone made a slide of her on the sidewalk, and then made a new slide showing every step she and her kid took as they crossed the street.” Barbara took another bite of her ice cream.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego caught on to the idea now. “And if you show the slides in quick succession you would have some sort of idea of motion?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Exactly!” Barbara gestured with her cone almost sending her ice cream to the sidewalk. “Now we have machines that can show a series of images very fast so that it creates a fluid motion that looks every bit like real life.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego marveled. “It sounds like some sort of fantasy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Technology has come a long way in just a century,” Barbara said thoughtfully, she then brightened. “I can’t wait for you to see the film, I know you’ll love it.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You give the medium an excellent recommendation.” Diego’s curiosity was piqued, even when he was imagining what Barbara described, it was hard to clearly understand what it would actually look like.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Barbara looked down at her wristwatch, her cone all but finished. “We still have a bit of time, is there anywhere you want to go?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Diego shrugged, his own cone finished. “Everything here is just so fantastic, I don’t even know what the possibilities are.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western"><span>Barbara dusted her hands off with her handkerchief. “Actually, I’m a bit thirsty.” She looked around </span><span>a</span> <span><span>moment. “Oh, let’s go to the five-and-dime and get a soft drink.”</span></span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>What’s a soft drink?” The term was completely unfamiliar to Diego.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>You’re about to find out.” </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>The pair crossed the street and entered an unassuming brick shop. Inside were aisles and aisles of a little bit of everything. On one side there was a bar counter with three tall stools standing in front of it. Barbara hustled over to the counter saying, </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I get a strawberry phosphate and a cherry phosphate please.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Diego turned slowly, taking in everything. In one part of the shop there were neat stack</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>sw</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span> of china, in another part an entire counter was covered in threads, needles and ribbon. A small shelf of colorful paper books stood near the door. Shelf after shelf was filled to the brim with anything a person could want. Diego had only seen such opulence when he had lived in Spain. It seemed that in the 20</span>
  </span>
  <sup>
    <span>
      <span>th</span>
    </span>
  </sup>
  <span>
    <span> century every man was fantastically wealthy.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>Diego, come join me,” Barbara called from the counter.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Diego went and sat down next to her. She slid a tall glass filled with a bubbling liquid to him. “It’s a strawberry phosphate,” she said.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>I have never heard of such a thing before.” Diego could smell the strong, fruity scent of the drink.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>It’s called a soft drink. They use mineral water and put fruit syrup into it, it’s super popular. Everybody drinks them nowadays.” She leaned over and took a sip from her own using the straw.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Diego followed suit. He had tasted mineral water before, and had, once or twice, tasted sparkling wine as well. This was quite different from either. First of all, it was quite sweet. Possibly sweeter than the ice cream. The fruit flavor was very strong as well, though as far as he knew no strawberries anywhere on earth tasted like the flavor of this drink. The bubbles gave the drink a bite of sharpness and he didn’t taste any hint of alcohol. </span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Barbara was watching him, once again anticipating his reaction. “Well?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>I like it, but it’s incredibly sweet.”</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>Everything is these days, my dad says it’s terrible and will rot your teeth.” Barbara took another sip of her own drink. “But I’ve been drinking this stuff my whole life and I’ve never had any problems.”</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>With so much sugar it must be expensive.” Diego swirled the drink with his straw. The bubbles fizzed to the surface with the agitation.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>Not at all,” said Barbara, “sugar is the cheapest thing. They use it in every little thing. Drinks, candies, baked goods, all of it.” </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>The future seems like a magical place.” Diego swirled his drink again. “There is so much-” he looked around trying to find the right words, “well, there’s just so much.”</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>That’s life in the modern world.” Barbara said offhandedly, then she sighed a little. “Well, for some folks. There’s a lot of people who aren’t doing so well these days.” Barbara grew quiet a moment before clearing her throat. “But you’re right, there’s a lot of excess these days. Things that were rare in your day are cheap and easily accessible to everyone now.” She flashed him a smile.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>I hope that that is a good sign for the progress of mankind,” said Diego. </span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>Here,” said Barbara offering her glass to him, “try mine. I want to make sure you get to experience the best there is of this century.”</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>After the sodas were finished Barbara took him to look at the candy counter. “If we’re going to see a movie we’ve got to have something to eat during the show.” She looked over stacks of bars neatly wrapped in foil and paper. Leaning over to speak to the shop assistant she pointed to various items. </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can I get a couple of those Reese’s bars, a couple of Baby Ruth and a couple of Clark bars?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>The shop assistant nodded and began putting the various candies in a paper bag. Diego looked at the variety of chocolate candies displayed in large glass jars. “It seems that chocolate is also more common these days too. Do people eat it bitter, or is sugar added to it as it is with everything else?”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Barbara took the bag of candy and shoved it into the bottom of her handbag. “You’re catching on. There’s sugar in the chocolate and it’s the tastiest thing.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>It never occurred to me that it could be eaten in such a way. I’ve only ever tried it as a drink.”</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>“<span>Once we get to the movie you’ll get a chance to try it,” Barbara said, patting her purse.</span></span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Diego imagined that shipping must be an immense activity in the future to make foods like vanilla, chocolate and sugar so readily available and cheap.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>Barbara took his arm. “Come on, let’s get to the show.”</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>The theater, upon entering, was surprisingly as expected. The seats, the aisles, the lights, all similar to what Diego had experienced when he had attended plays in Spain. Even the large piece of fabric that Barbara informed him was called a screen was more or less what he expected, if not much larger than he had anticipated. The theater had only a few other patrons, mostly children and a few other couples. Even for a motion picture the best seats were the same ones a person might choose for a stage play. Diego could feel his anticipation growing. He had a vague idea of what was about to happen and a strong desire to see how it all actually played out. He found himself very attentive as the lights in the theater lowered.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>The first flickering images were projected </span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>o</span>
  </span>
  <span>
    <span>nto the screen and Diego finally understood what Barbara had been attempting to explain. The images were amazing, true to life and moved like you were actually watching the person. Barbara shifted her small paper bag of what she said was popcorn and leaned close to his ear so she could whisper a translation of the slides of text that were shown every few minutes.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>He wasn’t sure if this made him vain, but there was a distinct pleasure in seeing a story that reimagined his deeds as a thrilling drama. It was like the best stage plays he had seen but somehow it was better because it was about him. </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span> he thought, </span>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is most certainly vanity</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <span>. He smiled to himself all the same.</span>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div></div>
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